Best Lactation Poems
That’s what she calls herself
who boasts of the longest reigning monarchy in the world,
producing a short of one to twenty Nobel Prize winners
as only two colleagues beat her to global wealth.
Her buttocks sit on the red hot coal
of the deadly pacific ring of fire.
Her cultural and innovative influence,
already clinging on global corners with their webs.
The sushi, sashimi and the tempura;
the karate, judo, sumo and ninjutsa;
the Toyota, Sony, Nintendo, canon and Panasonic,
all testaments of her hands of influence.
She’s a home to over six thousand pieces
resting on large waters to stay as one.
Three-fourth of her landscape is forests or mountains
and so industrious to make possible the Asimo.
Her short poems have been globally popularized
with almost every of her citizens literate,
while some of her streets still remain nameless.
She must have acquired lots of black cats
to reach such a height of civilization and power;
Beauty comes with teeth not quite regular,
visiting the vending machine to satisfy ones need for a beer,
possessing the largest trade center for fish in the world
but publicly blowing the nose and tearing off a gift’s wrap
converts her cool countenance into a bad mood.
She has centers for drinking and taking alcoholic shots
so also for enjoying the fluid of lactation for adults.
Ironing a shirt with a speed of light
is her special craft and yardstick for a serious competition.
Population of pets outweigh that of children;
her appetite for Basashi and expenses for the melons
invite controversy to any form of human reasoning.
Immigration then is highly regulated
to give continuity to such traditional and economic history.
Galactic cowboys mount mysterious steeds
and chase spacey cows at unfathomable speeds!
Lactating in circles they moo as they spray
an interstellar round-up, a real milky way.
It sparkles and glimmers, that distant lactation
as it drenches the galaxy and all of creation.
At heaven we marvel, in some ungodly hour,
at distant milk curdles, already gone sour.
8/21/16
For Contest: Word Play: Galactic
Hosted by: Ir0nic Zink
On the night of December 2, 1984
a toxic gas leak at a Union Carbide pesticide plant
was a terrible tragedy that continues to evoke
strong emotions even 30 years later,
disaster haunts Bhopal survivors.
When the sun rose the next morning,
the magnitude of devastation was clear.
Dead bodies of humans and animals blocked the street,
leaves turned black and a smell of
burning chili peppers lingered in the air.
Plant run by Union Carbide leaked about 40 tons of
deadly methyl isocyanate gas into the air in Bhopal,
quickly killing about 4,000 people.
Lingering effects of the poison pushed
the death toll to about 15,000 over the next few years.
In November 1984, most of the safety -
systems were not functioning
and many valves and lines were in poor condition.
In addition, several vent gas scrubbers had been out of service
as well as the steam boiler, intended to clean the pipes.
The pipes were rusty,
The rust in the iron pipes made the reaction faster.
All the contents of the tank were released
within a period of about two hours.
The tank had been maintained badly.
I can feel the pain of Mohammed Ismail, Alia,
Rasida Bibi, Kanhya and much, more people of Bhopal
Who suffering from leukorrhea, pelvic inflammatory disease,
excessive menstrual bleeding,
and suppression of lactation.
Civil and criminal cases were filed
in the District Court of Bhopal
causing death by negligence.
But justice has eluded the people of Bhopal for more than 20 years.
Union Carbide, refuses to assume these liabilities in India
or clean up the toxic poisons left behind.
I am the native of interface between this world and the other
Living presently in my shrine at the Roman baths at Bath in UK
People used to throw coins into me because of my sanctity
But no more they do it but have still faith in my medicinal utility.
People used to throw curse tablets requesting my intervention
I was known as Goddess Sulis till the Romans arrived here
And they saw in me the image of their Goddess Minerva
Now Medica Minerva-Sulis because of my healing power.
Known for curse and cure, now I cure but curse nobody
Pilgrims come from Europe to bathe in my therapeutic body
And get healed of their rheumatic and gout diseases and ills
Many a Homeopaths come for inspiration for their clinics.
Women worship me as a Goddess of childbirth and lactation
A hot beauty, men come for warming their body and heart.
Dr. Ram Mehta
=======================================
Fifth Place win in:
Contest: Razzle Dazzle Me sponsored by the Sweetheart of PS
I am the native of interface between this world and the other
Living presently in my shrine at the Roman baths at Bath in UK
People used to throw coins into me because of my sanctity
But no more they do it but have still faith in my medicinal utility.
People used to throw curse tablets requesting my intervention
I was known as Goddess Solis till the Romans arrived here
And they saw in me the image of their Goddess Minerva
Now Medical Minerva-Solis because of my healing power.
Known for curse and cure, now I cure but curse nobody
Pilgrims come from Europe to bathe in my therapeutic body
And get healed of their rheumatic and gout diseases and ills
Many Homeopaths come for inspiration for their clinics.
Women worship me as a Goddess of childbirth and lactation
A hot beauty, men come for warming their body and heart.
** Inspired by the Book Waters of the Gap: Mythology of Aquae Sulis
Paperback –
by R. J. Stewart (Author)
+++
April 11, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Second Place Win
Contest by Girogio V
As exemplary as a High Priest
and consecrated as a Temple's Inner Chamber.
Respected amongst his colleagues,
reverenced by His subordinates,
distinguished, honorable and set apart.
Then came the moment of Truth
like the refining fire which may burn or may purify.
A Golden Opportunity never to be seen again,
but a situation to break or to make him.
This is Crude Diamond Ore from a glance
already anticipating to do it at once
creating an allabi with occurrence in France
and covering all traces in utmost Brilliance
Not minding his activated self-repugnance
certainly it will give birth to wealth and public acceptance.
If Life gave him more options, he'd freelance.
But with this one opportunity, he'd like to dance.
Having no qualms; even if he disappoints his fans.
He isn't to be blamed if Life is not a balance
and success among all has no concomittance.
This is the start to his enjoyment galore
but can be forever hunted by the Law.
The heaped pressure pressing more and more,
but what the Hell! It's just one flaw.
With a blessing so raw,
attached with bountiful Harvest he never saw.
Thinking of his glory and celebration
and already holding his blessing
like a woman in lactation
yet a part of him suppresses
his whole in castigation
making him feel so useless
like a man facing castration
forcefully taking his freedom
and peace in extortion
Just about to make the decisive move,
he resisted the push and forgot about the groove
having in mind, something to prove
he signed the blank cheque without adding another "0"
Lord, save this unholy Baptist!?
Her lactation, like mother's juice,
slakes thirsty tongues with creamy gist.
To flush her slick love-chamber's sluice,
with corkscrew thumbs, and practiced wrists,
like a gander she mauls her goose!
If hairy chest stirs those supple breasts
in whorish barns (near lover's inns),
then with my cock's erectest crest,
the buttocks (of her cleft nether-chin),
like meat pies, I durst hurry test,
lest I, limp, err in deadly sins!
But I pray Thee, O holy Godhead!
I durst not be so thus content'd,
when, like dogwood, is my sainthead,
when goes my pizzle unlament'd;
and, like Pan, to c*nt the nunhead,
I've foregone your grace, unrepent'd.
I.
What rare delight it is, when spring and youth,
pregnant with life, explode all o'er again!
When sex organs mature, and know lust's truth,
lewd sensations soon tempt the once-chaste brain.
Youth, like the juice of love, flows with desire;
and then demands its portion of swollen flesh
as yet pubescent flowers bloom with fire,
while passion's ready, willing, and still fresh;
O Love! O Soul!—How nature can inspire,
something as glorious as when two join and mesh!
II.
Together as three, we in ménage à trois
meet; and unite like Cupid's lock and key,
moaning and sighing in love's lustful patois,
expressing our cores' triad ecstasy.
Together, as a youth and his two maids,
we come; our bodies, moving like the ocean,
ebb and flow, rise and fall: it never fades,
as maidenheads (now laid fresh in this motion)
ooze love's warm fluid in copious spades,
moist, milky-white, and sticky like thick lotion.
III.
O Muse! None can inspire my rhyming pen
like you. By Hippocrene's spring you quench my thirst,
that I might have breath unlike other men;
and may offer you thanksgiving while I'm versed!
Therefore, I greedily drain your soft breasts
for the sweet, fresh milk of new inspiration.
For your breast-milk is easy to digest,
as truly blest am I by your lactation.
So here my rhyme's revival's now expressed,
as I'm now free from creative cessation.